Her
by Katria Bloom
Summary: H/D mpreg. The snitch was still fluttering in Draco Malfoy's hand when he landed his custom made Flashfire Turbo, slinging it over his shoulder as he took long strides to the rest of his team mates who were congregating in the middle of the field.


_This was written for hdinspired mpreg fest for one of the mods, dragoncharmer._

* * *

The Snitch was still fluttering in Draco Malfoy's hand when he landed his custom made Flashfire Turbo, slinging it over his shoulder as he took long strides to the rest of his team mates who were congregating in the middle of the field. He felt person after person pat him on the back and shove him jovially. He could see the flash of the disgustingly bright robes of the Chudley Cannons as they left the field, and he found himself hoisted onto the shoulders of his screaming team mates. He lifted the Snitch into the air and it was still shining in the dying sun and feebly fighting against his grip. 

His eyes were drawn to the lone bright orange robe lingering in the outskirts of his vision and he noticed that it was Potter, an odd expression on his bespectacled face. He lowered his head in disappointment, the lenses of his glasses flashing, but Draco could have sworn he had grinned seconds before.

Draco's stomach fell as his team mates lowered him back to the ground. He looked for Potter again but all he could see was a swirl of blue Quidditch robes and all he could hear was the chanting of 'Magpies' over and over in his ears.

Someone finally pried the Snitch from his hand and replaced it with the very large and very heavy League Cup trophy. He hoisted it above his head spinning in a slow circle and relishing in the deafening roar of the Magpie fans surrounding the swirling mass of ecstatic players. The Montrose Magpies, led by seeker Draco Malfoy, had won the League Cup. More importantly, Draco Malfoy had beat Harry Potter to the Snitch.

Looking back on his short life, Draco couldn't recall a time in which he had ever been so happy.

Draco smiled, his grip tight on the trophy.

* * *

The rest of his team mates had moved their celebrating to the sponsor's tent, passing the trophy from person to person. Draco had promised over and over that yes, he would come eventually and yes, of course he would be there for the press conference. 

Mostly he just wanted to be alone and would prefer to shower minus the congratulatory slaps and pats that everyone seemed to think he wanted. He slipped out of his Quidditch gear and stepped into the steamy shower stalls. He washed quickly, his mind still racing in disbelief. He towelled off the dripping water and wrapped a dry towel around his waist, quickly walking back into the locker room to dig his clothes out and dress.

"Good game Malfoy," an amused voice said from the doorway. Draco turned, his jumper clenched in one hand. Potter stood there, freshly showered and wearing a crisp blue shirt and antiqued jeans. "You must be missing out on some parties in which you are the man of the hour. Running late?" He stepped into the room, his hands in his pockets. "Congratulations, by the way. Don't know if I remembered to tell you that."

"Why are you here, Potter?" Draco asked, not looking up as he pulled up his pants before dropping his towel. Potter laughed, ducking his head a bit.

"Not to gloat, if that's what you mean," he finally said, sitting down on the bench. "You won, remember? I know I've beaten you a lot, but really…"

"Oh ha ha," Draco said bitterly, doing up his trousers. "What do you _want? _You should be drinking your loss away with your team mates, not congratulating the opponent. I'm not the only one with better things to do."

"I don't have anything better to do, and I was sure you would be in a good mood after beating me. I thought you might want to have a drink, I nicked some champagne from your tent earlier."

"You're a horrible person," Draco grumbled, abandoning his shirt. "What makes you think that I would want to have a drink with you? When have I ever given off that impression?"

Potter was too busy fetching the champagne from outside to answer immediately. When he did reply, it was quiet. "You…you looked for me. After you caught the snitch Snitch and won, you looked for me. Why? Don't say you could see the devastation on my face, because I don't care."

Draco suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Potter's eyes were on him and he honestly wasn't sure why his eyes always seemed to find him, even in a room full of people. Potter was suddenly too close, the chilly bottle of champagne clenched in one fist. Draco lifted his gaze and levelled it on Potter before replying, "I just wanted to see if losing to me was as big of a disappointment as when I lost to you all those years. It obviously wasn't, seeing as you were grinning. It's hard to gloat about a victory when the person you've beaten doesn't seem too awfully upset about it."

"You deserved to win," Potter said as he peeled back the foil capping the bottle. "You simply played better than I did. You're the only one in this league who could do that. Once again, congratulations. Champagne?"

Draco rolled his eyes, pushing past him. "I don't like champagne. You can keep your meagre spoils."

"If not champagne then how do you celebrate?" Harry asked before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

Draco snorted as he lay laid his hands on his hips. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Potter chuckled, setting aside the bottle with an unreadable emotion. Draco didn't know what Potter was going to do until the second before he did it, and by then it was too late to change anything.

Harry Potter's lips were on his and they were _moving _and he tasted like horrible, cheap champagne. Draco's pants were soon peeled away and Potter's messy head was bobbing and he watched his own cock disappear and reappear from his mouth.

It wasn't too long before Potter pulled away, wiping at his chin and pulling his trousers off and laying himself over the long wooden bench lining the lockers.

Draco didn't know what was happening but he had a hard-on and there was a willing body spread before him. He straddled the bench, planting one knee as he lifted Potter's hips, sliding first one, then two fingers inside him.

Potter arched back into his hand, his forehead pressed into his arm. "Oh fuck Malfoy, just do it already," he breathed, "Every time…you in that uniform…can barely stand it."

Draco wasn't listening to Potter, he was spitting into his palm and coating his cock before lining up and slowly sliding himself into Harry's writhing body. Potter was letting his breath out in short, harsh gasps, his spine bowed slightly as Draco carefully entered him. Suddenly his entire body shuttered and Draco was certain he had brushed Potter's prostate.

Potter's voice was rough when he hissed, "Faster," and Draco took no time to do as he was told. He sped up, one of his hands gripping Potter's slight hip and the other kneading the small of his back.

Draco was fucking Potter as fast as he could, Potter moving his hips in the opposite rhythm. He could hear the soft pants the other man was making and Draco's own lungs were aching from holding his breath. He could feel the beginnings of his orgasm tightening in his groin and his vision blurred when he felt Harry spasm around his pulsing erection.

His entire body seemed to explode, and his breath tore free of his lungs as he thrust into Potter and stayed there, emptying himself deep in his body.

Draco let his knee fall and he sat straddled behind Potter, his forehead resting on Potter's moist lower back. He couldn't seem to catch his breath and he could still feel the ghost of his orgasm. He was content laying there, his eyes closed and pretending he was with an anonymous groupie. He tried not to remember it was Potter because that thought stirred up another wave of pleasure that he didn't want to think about.

It was easy to do until Potter sighed, sliding a hand through Draco's hair. Draco quickly disentangled himself, pulling his trousers back on and rescuing his jumper from the floor. Potter flipped over onto his back, folding his hands over his stomach.

Draco could tell that Potter was thinking of asking him something that he really didn't want to answer. "I'm late," Draco said as he packed his things, brushing past Potter who was still sprawled naked across the bench.

"I really am glad for you," Potter said quietly, but Draco didn't stop long enough to hear what he said.

* * *

It was a few months later that Draco read Potter had resigned from not only the Chudley Cannons but from the whole of professional Quidditch. The first thought that came to mind was that perhaps Potter was even more of a sore loser than he himself was. His second thought was that it wouldn't be a competition without Potter. His third thought was 'well shit, I might as well retire too'. 

He read over the article, which had been splattered on the front page of the Daily Prophet along with a picture of Potter in which he looked as if he had been drinking a bit too much alcohol than was really necessary. With a frown he tossed it aside. Stupid bloody Potter and his stupid bloody ego.

Draco had always prided himself on being a very determined man. Even with the cards stacked against him and even when the snitch Snitch was snatched from under his nose for what seemed the millionth time, he never gave up. He wouldn't allow himself to give up. He also never thought that Potter, after his ruthless determination to finally be rid of the Dark Lord, would ever give up. After three years of Quidditch, however, that is exactly what Potter did.

Draco wasn't sure why he was so angry. All he could think was that Potter was conceding to him. Like he didn't want to play anymore now that he had lost. It was a terribly childish thing to be sure, and he really shouldn't care. Draco would have the final win under his belt and the eternal bragging rites. It was Potter's loss. Potter's problem.

Draco folded the paper and tossed it away, because he knew that it wasn't just Potter's problem.

* * *

The first scrimmage in the off-season brought a very large crowd. Reporters swarmed the defending champions of the World Cup, Draco in particular. His mind was on the upcoming match and all they served to do was annoy him with their generic questions. He was mounting his broom when he heard one question ring out above the others. 

"Do you feel personally responsible for the retirement of Harry Potter?"

Draco froze, trying to find who had asked the question. After a long moment and a crowd of hungry looks he finally said, "All I did was beat him, quitting was his choice."

A frenzy of questions started back up and Draco simply flew away to join the rest of his team in the air.

Draco waited after he had spotted the Snitch just to give his reserve seeker plenty of time to get it before him. It seemed that the other seeker's strategy was to simply watch and follow Draco. With an annoyed sigh Draco turned, circling back the direction he had just come. The Snitch appeared from behind the middle goal post and he zoomed after it before his opponent had a chance to even process what was happening.

Draco had released the Snitch and was halfway to the locker room before his team had landed. He could hear the buzz of approaching reporters and he sped up his pace. He had nearly made it out of the line of fire when he was pulled inside the manager's office by an invisible force. He heard the lock click as he dropped his broom, anger and the slightest bit of fear twisting in his stomach.

In a swirl of a shimmering cloak Potter appeared, his eyes red and puffy and pleading. "Please listen to me, I need you to listen."

"I don't have anything to say to you," Draco replied as he took in Potter's baggy clothes and rather shabby appearance.

"I didn't ask you to say something to me, I asked you to listen to me," Potter sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit. One of his hands drifted to his stomach absently for the briefest moment. When he lifted his eyes and allowed it to fall limply to his side. Draco frowned as he picked his broom back up off the ground.

"I really don't have the time for this," he said, trying his best to brush past Potter. Instead Potter caught hold of his wrist, very gently pulling him back. "Let go of me," Draco drawled without any real venom.

Potter's hand fell away and he recoiled, his eyes glistening a bit. Draco was waiting for his bottom lip to quiver, but it never did. Instead he watched Potter try to force himself not to cry before whispering, "Please."

Draco eyed Potter for a long moment in horror. "What the hell is wrong with you? Have you _cracked_?"

Potter sighed, pushing his glasses up to wipe his eyes. "I feel like I have. I might have. I hate…I hate feeling like this. I hate not being able to control myself." Potter's fists clenched like he was going to hit Draco but he changed his mind. In a split second it was as if all spirit had drained from his body. He collapsed into one of the plush, high-backed chairs across from the over-large manager's desk with a shuttered sigh.

"Why are you telling me how crazy you are?" Draco asked, staying by the door. "I realize that the stress of getting beat probably seriously damaged your brain, but…"

"That's got nothing to do with it," Potter responded so softly it could have been a breath. "I have something to tell you."

Draco could only see the very top of Potter's head and he noticed that his dark hair shown deep auburn in the bright light. He had never noticed in the sun. "So all this, what you've been saying, doesn't qualify as telling me something? I'd like to know what does."

"I'm having a baby. Your baby."

Draco froze and he watched Potter's head disappear. His mind was filling with questions as the bottom of his stomach dropped out. He held his breath until his mind stopped racing, closing his eyes. His lungs began to burn and he let out his breath in a rush opening his eyes. Potter was standing in front of him, his gaze hesitant and closed. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't think of the right words.

Draco forced himself to take another breath before he said, "What am I supposed to say to that?"

There was a flicker in Potter's gaze but there was not emotion. "I just thought you should know. You don't…you don't have to do anything. Nothing has to change, I just…I would have wanted to know."

Draco didn't realize where his eyes had roamed until Potter's hand slid over his stomach self-consciously. Draco wanted to look away, but he didn't want to draw attention to his embarrassment.

"I can't even remember…" he started, closing his eyes and counting how many months it had been. "Six months. You waited six months to tell me?"

"I didn't know what to do!" Harry whispered fiercely. "I was in the same position as you! I had a career, I had a life. I didn't even know anything was wrong until I was sick for two bloody weeks! Do you have any idea how devastated I was when I found out?" His eyes were wild and shining with tears. "My life is over and I'm having a baby by myself and I haven't the slightest clue how to be a parent, let alone do it in front of millions of people who want to know who was lucky enough to get Harry Potter up the duff."

He was breathing quickly and had furious tears coursing down his cheeks. Draco's mind was blissfully blank, but his stomach was twisting watching the desperate man in the front of him. Potter made a soft noise before picking his invisibility cloak up off the floor, crossing to the door before draping it across his shoulders. He took a steadying breath before pulling up the hood. Draco heard the rattling of the doorknob and the words came out of his mouth before he had time to think about what it meant.

"You don't have to."

"I don't have to do what?" Potter's words sounded choked. Hopeful.

Draco swallowed thickly before whispering, "You don't have to do it alone. It's…it's my child too. I have…Harry, I have as much responsibility in this that you do."

All Draco could hear for a long moment was Potter's unsteady breathing for a bit. He finally said, "You can move into the Manor and…and I'll help you."

"What about your…" Harry sighed, but Draco cut him off.

"I don't care," Draco replied. "Whatever happens, it can be worked out. My mum would kill me if I didn't do this properly. Move into the Manor."

Potter was totally silent; he must have been holding his breath. The minute seemed to stretch indefinitely before the door swung open, leaving Draco alone.

* * *

Draco soon found out that Potter had a problem with the word 'pregnant'. He always cringed when anyone said it, trying his very hardest to keep the disgust from his face. He was nearly a ghost in Malfoy Manor, although his floating wasn't nearly as graceful as a spectre. When Draco would arrive home from practice or a game he was never sure where Potter could be found. They first couple of weeks he was slowly working down the vast portrait-lined corridors, one hand absently circling over his slowly stretching stomach. Draco watched him for the briefest of moments, noticing the questioning glances his ancestors were favouring Potter with. After he had made it through all the corridors Potter moved on to the rooms. Draco had told him as he could feel free to choose a bedroom for himself and the baby. Potter checked every room before settling on a pair of adjoining rooms a fair distance from Draco's room. 

Potter had lingered in the master bedroom, obviously taken aback by the near-blinding white extravagance that Draco's parents had lived in as long as he could remember. Draco had accidentally stumbled upon him lying in the middle of the bed, staring at the ornately carved ceiling. "You can have this room, I don't mind ," he finally said, and Potter couldn't hide his surprise.

"Oh, no," he gasped. "I don't…I wouldn't know what to do with myself in here." He was trying to sit up but was having a hard time. Draco started to help him, but Potter had worked his way to his feet.

Draco swallowed thickly, his fingers tingling a bit as he caught sight of Potter's growing belly. He flexed his fingers and turned his face away. "I'm going to go see about your dinner."

He lingered for a moment, and Potter was looking at him in an exhausted sort of way. Draco sighed and turned to leave. Potter made a sound of protest and Draco stopped, turning his head a bit.

"I don't mind…" he whispered, and shifted his weight. "I mean…if you want to…to touch, you can. It's strange, I know, but…I don't mind."

Draco held his breath for a moment before nodding once. "Dinner will be soon," he said in way of a reply, because he really didn't know what else to say.

Potter said something to him, but he didn't stay long enough to hear what it was. Potter didn't join him for dinner that night, so he sent a tray up for him.

After sitting in the study for hours watching the flames flicker and staring at his still-full snifter of brandy, Draco went up to bed, pretending not to hear the muted sobs coming from Potter's room.

* * *

After a month and a half, Draco came home to a small line of suitcases that Harry had most likely found scattered in various places throughout the Manor. The thumping of yet another bag on the staircase signalled the return of Potter. 

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, and Potter stopped at the bottom step. He looked pale and much like he was running a fever. His eyes were red and puffy and he refused to meet Draco's eyes.

"I'm going to go stay with Ron and Hermione," he whispered before kneeling gingerly and lifting his last suitcase. "I think I've imposed long enough." He set the case by the rest of the lot before dropping one hand onto his stomach, massaging it gently. "I'll call you when…when it happens. I'm sure you'll want to know."

Draco's throat seized, his hands tingling again. "Harry, you don't…" he swallowed. "I don't want you to leave. I like having you here, I like having someone else around." Draco frowned as Harry cringed at his words.

In a flash he had collapsed and Draco caught him, frantic with worry. It took him a few moments to realize that Harry was crying. He was clinging to Draco tightly, pressing his face into his neck.

"You're going to hurt yourself," Draco whispered, sitting and pulling Harry into his lap. He found himself rocking Harry a bit as he whispered, "I don't want you to leave. I'm sorry. I want you to stay with me. Please."

Harry sobbed. "I can't live like this. I can't stay on the fence forever, I can't…I can't raise a child in this indifference." He let out a shaking breath, but the next sentence was very calm. "I need you to love me, because I can't do this on my own. I'm not strong enough and I'm not afraid to admit it."

Draco sighed, feeling Harry's breath warm his tear-dampened skin. "I left the Magpies today," he said, holding Harry closer. "I left them so I could be here with you."

Harry sniffled, lifting his head and allowing their eyes to meet. "I'm scared," he breathed, and again Draco saw the wild fear in his eyes.

"So am I," Draco agreed, and he felt a gently kick against his stomach. Harry's breath caught a bit as his hand shot between them, pressing into his belly.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "It's been pretty bad today."

Draco brushed Harry's hand away, replacing it with his own. Harry was holding his breath, colour rising from his neck up to his cheeks. Draco started to pull his hand away but he suddenly felt a rolling beneath Harry's skin. Harry was suddenly breathing again, his head bowed as he watched Draco's hand. "I don't…" he started and realized that he didn't have any words to describe what he was feeling. "Don't leave."

Harry simply closed his eyes and smiled when he felt the baby lay give a strong kick in the middle of Draco's palm.

* * *

Draco hadn't realized how much room Harry could take up in a bed. After the first few nights where he would wake up holding onto the ledge of the bed balancing precariously with one of Harry's arms thrown over him and his face so close Draco could feel his breath, Draco simply decided to start on Harry's side of the bed so he couldn't have to be chased. When Draco held him in his arms Harry wouldn't move at all, save for his frequent trips to the toilet. 

Draco would come out of the bathroom every morning to see Harry sitting in the middle of the bed, his legs crossed and his eyes closed. He always knew the exact moment Draco would come back in and would open his eyes and smile in a weary sort of way.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked as he dressed, pretending he didn't hear Harry's groan as he climbed out of the bed, pulling at the too-small Cannon's shirt that he had slept in.

"Just drained," Harry replied, his voice still hoarse from sleep. He stretched languidly, his arms high above his head. The shirt slid up so high his protruding bellybutton was visible, along with a faint spider-web of stretch marks. He blushed darkly before tugging the shirt back down self-consciously. "Sorry," he muttered as he snatched his glasses off the bedside table and put them on.

"You've got nothing to apologize for," Draco said with a slight smile. "I wish you wouldn't worry about it so much, I'm sure you'd rather not have to think about trying to wear clothes that don't fit."

Harry blushed darker. "I'm just not used to…to having to…" he sighed. "I've always been so…I guess scrawny is the right word…and if my cousin Dudley's clothes won't fit, or if you hadn't thrown them away, then…"

"You're just lying in bed all day anyway, what does it matter?" Draco asked as he fastened his denims. "I'll run you a bath, yeah?"

Harry nodded, his eyes sliding over Draco's chest before it disappeared under his soft grey t-shirt. He averted his gaze as Draco started back toward the bathroom. "Can we go out to the gardens today?" Harry asked as he leaned against the counter. "I know I'm supposed to be lying down, but I just get so tired of not doing anything. I can't wait until I can fly again."

"You only have a few more weeks," Draco said, keeping his voice steady. "After that you can whatever you like." He turned on the water and poured a bit of oil in that made the bathroom smell like sandalwood and amber. Draco cleared his throat and sat on the rim of the tub. "Have you…have you thought of any names?"

Harry lowered his head and drew his bottom lip between his teeth. "I haven't…I haven't thought about anything. I'm so unprepared. Why, have you?"

Draco tested the water, letting his damp hair fall into his eyes. "I got a book a few weeks back, and it's full of names. I…I started a list, but you can look at it if you like. You should pick a girl's name and a boy's name just in case. You don't…you didn't find out what the baby's going to be, did you?"

Harry shook his head, crossing his ankles. "It would have made it too real." Harry watched as Draco turned off the water and stood, sliding his hands into his pockets. With a sigh he finished with, "It's still surreal."

Ducking down to grab a fresh towel from beneath the sink, Draco braced himself against the sink. He tossed it onto the toilet seat and straightened back up, offering Harry a smile. "You're all set. If you need help just call, yeah? I'll leave you to get undressed."

Harry caught Draco's wrist, spinning him back around. Draco's brows were knitted together in mild confusion and Harry closed his eyes for a moment. "I want…will you stay? You don't have to, but…"

Draco swallowed and turned the rest of the way as Harry released his wrist. He carded his hands through his hair before he allowed his arms to fall limply to his sides. Draco's eyes slid up Harry's neck before he raised a hand to circle around the back of Harry's wrist. Goosebumps grew over Harry's skin and he closed his eyes, letting out a shivering breath, his lips moist. Draco's hand slid under Harry's shirt, gently cupping the curve of his stomach. "Will you let me see you?" he asked, the tingling in his hands finally gone.

Harry shivered, for a moment looking like he was going to pull away. Instead he nodded, and Draco's fingers slider over his stomach in his entirety.

He gently peeled away Harry's shirt, touching as much exposed skin as possible. He still couldn't believe how much a body could shift and develop in a few short months. He could still remember the firmness and heat of Potter's body beneath him, how he had been rippling, lean muscle and rough, wind-chapped skin.

Potter's skin was pale and soft, the occasional fluttering of weary movement beneath it. Draco couldn't imagine what it must feel like to have another life inside of you, how strange it must feel. Harry shifted uncomfortably, looking away from Draco's hands.

"Beautiful," Draco whispered, because there was no other word to describe it, really. Draco raised one hand to turn Harry's head towards him, and Harry's eyes caught his. Harry seemed to be studying him carefully, not quite sure whether to believe it or not. The uncertainty made Draco's chest ache and he pulled him into a hug. "You have too much to worry about, you shouldn't worry about how I feel. You don't have anything to doubt."

"You feel obligated."

"I do," Draco agreed, smoothing a hand down Harry's back. "I feel obligated to have a family, to start all over and have something I can be proud of besides a Quidditch season. "I…" he sighed. "I can't imagine what life would be like without you."

Draco felt a kick against his stomach and he couldn't help but chuckle. Harry pulled back a bit, looking down at his stomach where a new bruise was rising. "I don't think the baby likes me very much." Draco grinned then addressed the remainder of his sentence to the baby. "I think you're hurting Harry more than me, you know."

Harry watched Draco, his eyes misting a bit. It took Draco a moment to realize what had happened. He had been the first of them to talk to the child like a person, like it was really there. The last wall had been torn down. A complicated mix of emotions overtook Harry's face before he leaned forward, kissing Draco in a way that was new and breathtaking and terrifying all at the same time.

Draco didn't dare pull away but Harry drew back, panting. "You should have your bath before it gets cold. You've been on your feet for too long anyway."

Harry nodded, drawing away from Draco a bit with a vague smile on is face. "You have no idea…thank you."

Draco flushed a bit and ducked his head. "I'll be waiting for you out here. Take your time."

* * *

They chose not to go to St. Mungo's to deliver the baby, opting to have a healer to come to the Manor instead to avoid a media circus. Harry slept through the entire procedure, but his grip on Draco's hand was as tight as ever. 

It went fairly quickly, so quickly that Draco hadn't fully realized it had started. The sound of wailing filled the room and Draco stood, craning his neck in an attempt to see the child. The baby was quickly swept from the room and the healer assured him that the baby was fine, they were just going to clean her up and bring her back when Harry woke back up.

Her. It had been an accident, but the doctor had told him they had a daughter.

"Where's…baby?" Harry croaked, trying to sit up. Draco pushed him back down gently.

"Stay still, you'll hurt yourself," Draco whispered. "They're cleaning her up right now, they'll bring her back in."

Harry nodded, allowing himself to sink back down into the mattress. He turned his face toward Draco, relief evident with his every breath. "A girl?"

Draco nodded, looking away because he could feel tears burning his eyes. "A girl," he whispered, wondering how something so small and loud could make him feel this way.

The nurse came back in, a bundle of blankets in her arms. She smiled at them and gave Harry the baby, leaving them alone with their child.

Harry didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He pulled the baby closer to his chest with his right arm to free up his left, gently smoothing the baby's fine black hair. Her face was scrunched up in her sleep, but Draco could only imagine the green eyes that lay beneath the near-translucent eyelids.

She flinched as a teardrop landed on her cheek, and Harry quickly brushed it away before he wiped his own eyes. "She's perfect," he whispered, looking up at Draco and smiling a waterlogged smile.

Draco was still in awe over the sight before him. His family. The one thing he hadn't considered since he was a little boy when Pansy would make him play wedding with her.

An unfamiliar feeling flooded Draco's chest as his blurring vision slid from Harry to his child, their child. He smiled and inched closer to the bed, touching their daughter's too-soft skin.

Her eyes opened and they were a deep, hazy blue. "I was sure they would be grey," Harry said wearily, letting his own eyes close. "Could you…hold her? 'M tired." Draco stood quickly, lifting the child into his arms.

She was already back asleep and Draco gingerly sat back down so as not to disturb her. She was so light, too light for something he knew would have such a lasting impact on his life. She let out a shuttering sigh in her sleep and snuggled down into her blankets.

* * *

The energy in the stadium was electrifying, and Draco was sure he had never felt quite so excited. The Harpies were already warming up and their fans were cheering, but he wasn't paying attention. His eyes were on the tent the opposing team would enter from. 

It was a history-making match, and the stands were full to the brim. Harry Potter was back after three years of retirement. The Wizarding World had been abuzz about it for weeks and as a result every seat in the stadium had been sold. The crowd grew to a deafening roar as team members wearing bright orange flooded the pitch and Draco straightened in his seat a bit looking for the player that everyone else in the stadium was looking for.

"I can't see! Dad, I can't see!" a little voice whined from beside him and Draco turned, grinning at the sight of his frustrated little daughter standing up in her chair, tiptoeing in the pink patent leather shoes she had picked out to wear with her tiny Cannons Quidditch uniform. Draco had tried to talk her out of wearing them but she was stubborn. All Harry could do was laugh as he pulled her hair into pigtails that fell into soft black curls.

"Come on then, love," Draco said, lifting her up into his arms and walking over to the edge of their box. "Let's see if we can find Daddy, yeah?"

She was quivering in excitement, her hands pressed together as her bright grey eyes scanned the swarm of Quidditch players, jumping from one unfamiliar person to the other. "I can't see him...where is he? Is he hiding?"

Draco squinted against the dying sun, lifting his other hand to shield the brightness. "I can't find him either, Gabrielle. I don't know where…"

Gabrielle squealed, clapping her hands when Harry flew in front of them, stopping in front of their box, looking windswept and Harry and back doing what he loved. Draco couldn't help but notice how nice he looked in the uniform, even if it was an annoying shade of orange.

Harry leaned in, placing one of his leather-gloved hands behind Draco's head and pulling him in for a kiss. Draco kissed him back, surprised as his stomach jumped at the thrill of kissing Harry like this, in public as a family. There were cameras flashing and cheers and catcalls, and Draco pulled back a bit, his face flaming a bit. Harry grinned devilishly before pressing another quick kiss to his lips, letting his hand fall away. "I love you," Harry yelled over the crowd.

"I love you too," Draco called back before bouncing the little girl on his hip. "Someone was trying to find you."

Harry grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Here I am," he said in her ear, and she wrapped her little arms around his neck for a hug. There were more flashes of cameras and Harry pulled away, twisting one of her pigtails around his finger. "You look lovely, Elle. Especially the shoes."

She giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek before squealing, "Good luck Daddy!"

"Your Daddy doesn't need luck," Draco said, pressing a kiss to Gabrielle's temple. "He's got us."

Harry grinned and added, "You're all the luck I need."

He caught Draco's gaze before mouthing 'All I need'. He blew Gabrielle a kiss and flew off to join his team, watching from his position over the pitch as the game got underway.

The Cannons had the Snitch and the game within ten minutes.

The End

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End file.
